Snow whirled around them and turned the world into a chaos of white. Hooves hit against the ground and trunks trumpeted the song of the mammoths.

Devan, Jon, and Tormund covered behind a rock as the horde of giant creatures passed in the valley below. Ghost stood atop the rock, probably pondering if he could take one of the animals down and eat for dinner.

Never before had Devan seen animals of such size. The back of the animal looked to be the height of the walls that surrounded Storm's End. From the back hung tufts of thick grey wool that resembled dried grass. Long twirly tusks that looked terrifyingly sharp adorned the mammoths' faces.

"They look small, poor things," Tormund said, seemingly unfazed by the animals. "They haven't been able to eat properly, that's why they're migrating North."

Devan looked at the wildling with astonishment in his eyes. "Those are small to you?" he asked.

"I've seen mammoths twice that size," Tormund said with a shrug.

"Why are they going North to find food, shouldn't it be more to eat down South where it's warmer?"

"They like to eat frost moss and that only grows where it's cold."

"This isn't cold enough? It's certainly cold enough for me!"

Devan pulled his hands through his messy hair that reach down to his shoulders now. His mother would not approve of his current hairstyle. His hair was matted from wearing a hat constantly to protect him against the cold, but he had taken it off while they rested behind the boulder.

"Well, you're not a mammoth, little seabird," Tormund replied. "Are you? You can't even grow a proper beard."

It was true. While Jon looked like an experienced warrior with his scruffy dark beard, and Tormund looked like, well a wildling with his unruly red beard, Devan still just looked like a boy with his blonde patchy facial hair. He envied them.

"I'm not a mammoth, but I'm not a seabird either!" he protested. "And I'm not little! I'm much taller than Jon!"

Jon looked at them with an exasperated look. "Can you two never shut up?" he snapped. "I'm starting to wish that the mammoths change course and trample us just so I won't have to hear you two anymore. We've been traveling for weeks and there hasn't been a moment of quiet."

"Mammoths wouldn't trample humans," Tormund said, ignoring Jon's complaints."They're smart creatures. That's why we ride them."

"Wildings ride mammoths?" Devan asked in astonishment. "How would you even get up on one of those things?"

Jon looked like he was ready to throw himself in front of the mammoths so he wouldn't have to hear any more musings from his travel companions.

"You get a giant to lift you up on the mammoth," Tormund replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's very easy really. Although I guess all the giants are all gone now. Maybe a huge boulder would do though."

"YOU KNEW GIANTS?"

The conversation continued onto the giant who had once nursed Tormund back to health. And plenty of other anecdotes about giants, their diet, and their mating habits.  Jon rolled his eyes even more. And the mammoths kept trampling the ground of the valley in front of them.

On the other side of the valley was the cave where they were headed. The cave where Bran Stark had died. As soon as the mammoth stampede was over they would go there. And find whatever there was to find.

***

It was early morning when they finally got to the other side of the valley. They had walked through the night to get to their destination. The nights were as bright as the days anyway since the sun never set in the North this time of year. A burning orange globe against a pale blue sky hung over them even at this early hour.

They found Summer first.

Ghost ran in front of them as they made their way up the frozen valley side and a bone-chilling howl was suddenly heard.

When the men made it to the body the white wolf was nudging his sibling with his nose, seemingly trying to make it stand up. To no avail of course.

"The body is still intact," Devan said in a surprised tone as he kneeled by the direwolf. "It was more than a year ago since it died."

"Bodies don't decompose up here," Tormund said and crouched down as well. "What falls in the north remains where it fell, unless something eats it. But I don't think animals wander this area, it's... cursed."

"Bodies don't decompose here, but they used to raise again," Jon said, refusing to bend down as he probably enjoyed for once not being towered over by Tormund and Devan. "So why didn't this one? Animals were turned by the walkers too."

"It's this area," Tormund said. "They don't go here. No one goes here."

He stood up and looked around. In the distance, a high tree with long white branches adorned with red leaves loomed on a hill.

Nothing should grow up here. But yet something did.

"Is that where we're going?" Devan asked.

Tormund nodded. "The elders tell stories about that tree," he said with a tone of reverence. "They say it's been here since these lands were filled with grass and sunshine."

Jon tried to convince Ghost to leave Summer with some gentle pets and encouraging words. The wolf gave off one last whimper before finally agreeing to come along. And they all trudged forward towards the tree.

Next, they found Hodor.

His body was crushed by the door he had held. The door he had held for almost all his life.

Jon bent down and carefully closed the man's eyes. "You were a good man," he said. "You were always loyal to House Stark. Until the end."

"Can we bury him?" Devan asked.

"There's no way to dig here, boy," Tormund said. "The ground is frozen to the core. But if we can make a fire we can perhaps burn the bodies."

"We'll arrange that tonight," Jon said. "It doesn't seem right for him to lay here forever."

But right now they needed to get to that tree. As they got close they realized how huge it was. Not like regular weirwoods. The trunk was the size of a small cottage and the top reached higher than the tower of Storm's End. Among the branches sat crows, thousands of them. Their caws filled the silence with a never-ending melody of loneliness and pain.

They walked through a winding path around the tree's roots until they finally stood right in front of it.

There they found... someone else.

A boy, probably a few years younger than Devan, with blonde hair. He sat by the foot of the trunk. Or perhaps he was the foot of the trunk because his body appeared to be part of the tree itself. His upper body was encased by white bark and his arms were wrapped with vines.

He appeared dead at first. But as they got close he opened his eyes.

They were bright red. Just like the leaves of the weirwood tree.

Devan gasped and took a step backward. The boy didn't look human. He was something else.

"Who are you?" Jon asked.

The boy looked at them one by one before answering. He looked at them like he knew them.

"I'm Jojen Reed," he said. "Or at least I used to be. I've been waiting for you."

Author's Note: I know this was a very short chapter. I actually had some more stuff written for it but I decided that was a good point to end it on... because I'm very curious about the reactions to that last reveal!

These events will continue in the next chapter, so you will get to know more soon. I promise!

And I do know that Jojen's body was destroyed by the children of the forest in the show. He got better... (this will be explained later on, I still aim to plausible fit this story within the canon universe)